Phobia
by Complexly Simple Kiddo
Summary: It sure sucks to be Blaine Anderson. Nerd extraordinare, gay and mutant. And now, because of a stupid accident, he's forced to tutor Kurt Hummel, the popular Cheerio kid. Sure, the boy is hot as hell, but his personality? Not so much!
1. Chapter 1

Don't own, don't sue, yadda yadda yadda. Enjoy!

**PHOBIA – **Chapter 1

Blaine Anderson hated summer. It was a fact. He hated a lot of things, but he was quite sure that summer was up there first on the list. Maybe hate was too much of a strong word. Despise? Abhor? It wasn't even a whim. He had a very long, very specific list of reasons why he hated summer. It was too hot, for one. He had a habit of wearing nothing less than long sleeved shirts and gloves, and that wasn't going to change soon or because of the seasons. There was also the fact that there was no school in summer. That was both a good and a bad thing. Bad because, simply put, he loved to learn. He loved the challenge of getting a new subject, a new thing in this world and get to made it his by learning everything about it. Sure, William McKinley High School wasn't the challenge he ached for, but he was only a year away from the true stuff. MIT. He was going to get into that place, and start actually learning stuff. And, most importantly, he was going to get away from this stupid school. It wasn't the studying that he hated, but the people. So, you see, Blaine Anderson wasn't quite a normal boy. In many ways. At the end of each class he prayed-even if he did not believe in god- that they got homework, and he silently cheered while his classmates groaned at the mention of exams. He wasn't a nerd, no matter what ninety percent of the school called him. He just liked to learn. It kept him occupied. Busy. It kept him less lonely.

He strolled across campus to the building. His house was further east, and to access school from the front he would have to make a huge, unpractical detour. There were both ups and downs from this route. An advantage was that he avoided the dumpsters where the jocks gathered to throw nerds and losers into them. He had ended inside one of those far too many times, and he didn't appreciate the smell, the dirty clothes, or the touching. Besides, when the dumpsters where empty, it hurt like hell and he had trouble getting out. He wasn't particularly tall. Or even average. He was in fact pretty short.

He was also gay, which surely did nothing in his favor. He knew now that he should have never come out, but McKinley had been an empty promise. One of the "it" couples was a gay one, and he naively thought it was safe. At night, when he was scrubbing stains from his Yves Saint Laurent shirts, he cursed and devised ways to satisfactory kill that "it" couple. He blamed it all to them.

Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe.

Which brought him to the disadvantages of getting to school by walking across the campus: Early cheerios practice.

He clutched his leather messenger bag and tried to make himself small. Well, smaller. The group was still practicing some routine, so they were busy and, if he was lucky, would pay no attention to him. It wasn't all of them that mocked him, the actually verbal ones where few, but the others laughed or did nothing to stop it, which Blaine hated the most. That was precisely why he Hated Kurt Hummel even more that his boyfriend. Sebastian was a jerk, but at least he was an honest jerk. Kurt had no personality, he couldn't agree with the bullies nor disagree, and that pissed Blaine off. He was just there, smiling without meaning it and looking pretty. Oh yes, Blaine hated his guts, but he wasn't blind. Kurt Hummel was gorgeous. Fair, perfectly smooth skin, to the point where their cheerio coach called him "porcelain". His hair was always styled in a way that seemed straight out of some fashion catalog, and his body was delectably toned from practice but not overly muscular and burly. Tall, long legs, and delicate but strong hands with long fingers. Pianist fingers, Blaine always thought. And his fashion sense was stunning. He wore his Jacobs, his McQueens and Dolce and Gabanna like they were designed for him.

But all of that paled in comparison with his eyes. It was the only feature that Blaine loved and hated about Hummel, simply because it made him human. All the other stuff made him look like a fabricated, albeit gorgeous model. Fake and deliberate. But his eyes were imperfect, and that's why Blaine had trouble looking away from them in the extremely rare occasions where he got to be close enough. One of the eyes was smaller than the other, or at least, it looked that way when he laughed, which wasn't often. He usually had this cool, cold indifference around him, like he thought he was better that all of them. But when he laughed? Blaine could feel himself smiling in return. Those cold grey eyes turned into galaxies, pools of stars and green and blue sparks that twinkled and shined with merry and life.

Too bad his personality sucked, Blaine needed to remind himself, when he heard Hummel's high pitch voice shout at the girls in the pyramid to be steady. He had the most beautiful voice, when he was not using it to bring someone down with his scathing, biting retorts. He was sure that if Hummel sung, it would be beautiful. But the boy wasn't in any singing clubs, so he probably couldn't do it. Blaine secretly hoped that was the case, because if Kurt Hummel, in addition to being hot as hell, could also sing, the world would have proven itself to be highly unfair. Blaine, once again, reminded himself of his lousy personality. He was almost by the bleachers now. Only a couple more meters and he would be safe.

"Honestly, Anderson, when are you going to learn how to dress yourself with something that doesn't make you look homeschooled?" said an acid, amused smooth voice from somewhere over his head, and Blaine didn't need to look to know that Sebastian's meerkat face was staring down at him.

"The day you learn how to actually spell homeschooled," Blaine muttered, barely audible. You don't reply to them, he had learned early in the game. Answering only made things worse, and he couldn't get angry either. He was not allowed to get angry, couldn't afford it. It was trouble, because he wasn't particularly... Normal.

"Do you actually hear me, Anderson, or are you so close to the floor that all you can perceive is earth vibrations?" oh the height jokes again, how fucking original. No, don't get angry, Blaine. Just don't react. How long where the bleachers anyway? Didn't Sebastian have better things to do than walk along the top step and throw insults at him? Didn't he have a boyfriend to stare at? He chanced a glance at the field, through the plastic seats of the bleachers, and he got the sporadic glimpse of that perfect body clad in the cheerios fitting uniform. In a flash of visual, he thought he had seen Kurt frowning at Sebastian. Probably pissed off that his boyfriend wasn't paying attention to him.

"Oh, I see," Sebastian said, fake realization tainting his voice "you actually have the hots for my boyfriend. How cute"

No, seriously. How fucking long where those bleachers? He could see the end, only six meters and, say, thirty six centimeters. In the USA system that's twenty point eight three periodic feet. How much would that be in Armstrong? Probably...

"That's right, run along, you don't want to miss Losers Club"

He hadn't noticed he was walking faster, but he must have, because he had already left the bleachers far behind him.

Sebastian Smythe. What a jerk. He actually hated that guy. It was right up there, next to summer. Slightly lower on the list than Hummel, that's for sure, but close enough. He was handsome, yes, but he was such a douche bag that no amount of pretty could fix it. The only thing that made him hate Sebastian a small, diminutive fraction less that Kurt, was that he was a douche bag to everyone, even teachers. No one dared to say anything to him. His father was some big state attorney or something. He was untouchable, and he could get away with anything. People that used their parent's power as their own pissed him off. Blaine felt himself getting annoyed once he crossed the threshold and started navigating the hallways. He started with the breathing exercises his dad had taught him ever since... Well, he didn't want to remember that. Not now. It would probably make him angrier. He got to his locker and opened it, taking out his books for first period and a novel he had been nursing for a few days now. He was too early, again. It was the price to pay in order to avoid the multitude. He closed the door and turned, only to see a group of jocks walking towards his general direction. He tensed and unconsciously tugged at his long sleeves to hide his hands because he forgot to wear gloves today. It exposed his neck a bit, but that was ok. They almost never went for the neck, it was the hands that gave him most trouble. Maybe, if he was lucky, they wouldn't see him.

"Anderson! What the fuck are you doing here?"

Right. Same old story. He clutched his books tighter with his cloth clad hands, almost like a shield. A shield to protect _them_. Blaine felt the well known signs of anger build up inside of him. He tried to go back to his breathing exercises, but it was useless. He instead tried to focus on analyzing the situation in front of him. Three guys, the usual suspects. Nothing elaborate because it wasn't planned, they were there, they were bored, and he was at the wrong place, at the wrong time.

"What the fuck? Why don't you answer, freak?" something inside Blaine struggled to get to the surface at that nickname. But it was only because he was gay, he tried to remind himself. It was only that, they didn't know. Nobody knew, and as long as he can remember those stupid breathing exercises, it would remain unknown.

"Dude, maybe he's like, sick or something. Voiceless or some shit"

"Don't be an idiot," spat the biggest of them. Karofsky, Blaine's mind supplied. "He's only a pansy coward who won't talk back"

I am _not_ a coward. Breathe, Blaine.

"Shit, he's boring as fuck. Why don't you get outta my face?"

Because you're standing in the way, dickhead. No, don't answer, Blaine. Come on. They'll get bored, they always do.

"Ugh, he's such a dweeb, get _out_," Karofsky was about to push him aside, but the hand was too high. He was too tall, Blaine too short, and his neck too exposed. Blaine flinched and pushed himself away from them and against the lockers. The movement was fast and he crashed against them hard, but he didn't feel the pain. The situation was escalating to where he didn't want it to get. Usually, the stay still and don't answer them tactic worked fine. Not today. Tough luck.

"Don't touch me," Blaine said, almost polite. He was trying so hard to keep calm. His mind had his favorite litany on loop. Don't get angry, don't get scared, don't feel. But he was a fucking human. He couldn't _not feel_.

"What? Don't touch you? Afraid you'll get a hard on? I bet you would love that"

The other celebrated the joke with tons of laughter, but it was the tone and the eyes of Karofsky that started to freak him out.

_Scared. Scared. Panic._

"Just... Don't touch me," Blaine almost pleaded. It was as if he was trying to make himself disappear inside the lockers by the force he was pushing against them, but Karofsky was towering over him, close. Too close. Karofsky's hand reached out. Blaine panicked. He couldn't panic, and that only made it worse. It was a vicious, vicious circle.

A scream rang through the empty hallways, ended by a loud metal crashing noise. It was the sound of Karofsky's body hitting the lockers. In a second, the boy was lying on the floor, unconscious.

_Shit, shit, shit. _

"What the fuck did you do to him?" screamed one of the other guys, But Blaine wasn't listening. He was too busy panicking. Quick footsteps could be heard from one of the adjacent hallways and the irate and pissed off figure of Sue Sylvester came into view. Blaine was shaking. He wasn't sure he could justify this one.

"What the hell happened here?" Sue demanded, and the jocks where quick to blame him. He couldn't even speak, he was frozen in place.

"Anderson must have pushed him and then he went flying! Shit, we were just talking," said one of the big guys, staring from Blaine to Sue to Karofsky, who was still on the floor were the Cheerios Coach was checking him.

"I somehow doubt it," snapped Sylvester, glaring at them. "You two will take Karofsky to the infirmary; he's just passed out, the hit wasn't that bad" the two boys grabbed Karofsky, sending murderous glares his way. Blaine just stood there, frozen to the core.

"Anderson, follow me!"

Blaine did. How in hell was he going to get out if this? His mind was racing so fast, that he didn't even watched where he was going. Soon, he found himself in Sue's office.

"Sit down, Elvis Kid." trying to ignore the random nickname, Blaine sat in front of her. She stared at him hard and for long seconds. Blaine felt like he was being scanned to the soul. The silence was making him nervous.

"I didn't thought you had it in you," she finally said. Blaine was so confused; his head was starting to ache.

"Um, sorry, what do I have?"

"The guts, Anderson. The guts. Not everyone can stand up to three of those guys. Now where the hell do you keep all that strength in that miniature body of yours?" she wondered, but it sounded like she was just thinking aloud, so he opted not to answer. Besides, it's not like he could give her the real answer. No. That would go wonderful. _You see, Coach Sylvester, I'm what society calls a mutant, even if it has nothing to do with genes, and my so called power is to harm or push people away when they touch me. That's why Karofsky went flying, Coach, so would you be so kind and not call the authorities? Thank you very much, and have a nice day._

No, somehow, he didn't think that would go very well. He almost smiled at the absurd scenario, but he remembered he was still in deep shit, and the grin was erased.

"Anyway, you have to understand that I don't tolerate violence. I won't have people pushing others around unless it's me doing it. Logically, I would have to punish you. Now, torture was something I couldn't negotiate in my contract with Figgings, so I'm making you tutor one of my kids, which should be torture enough. And this will have to go on your record."

"No! I..." Blaine exclaimed suddenly, and Sue merely lifted an eyebrow "I'm trying to get into the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. I... I can't have anything like that on my record. I swear it was an accident! I didn't mean to... I warned them... I... Please, just. I'll do anything!" Blaine finished, lamely, and Sue looked at him up and down. When she slowly smiled, Blaine had the nagging sensation that his outburst was somehow part of her plan.

"Well, I could do with a water boy, I always wondered what it would feel like to have an actual slave. Congratulations, Anderson, you're the new Cheerios mascot," before Blaine could even try to sputter some complaint, she opened her agenda and scribbled something down. "Find the Cheerios schedule on your own and be there from tomorrow on. Wednesdays and Fridays after school you're tutoring for two hours in the library. Now get the hell out of my office."

Blaine got up silently, cursing and groaning in the safety of his mind. He walked dejectedly to the door and turned before leaving.

"What subjects am I going to be tutoring and to whom?" he asked, resignedly. If he was going to try and cram some knowledge into a stupid girl or boy's brain, he better have some good teaching techniques ready, at least. Sue didn't even look up to answer.

"Science and Italian to Kurt Hummel"

Blaine felt his heart drop to his stomach. Surely he had done something really bad in his previous life, because this was the worst thing ever.

X_X_X_X

"You look like someone just kicked your newborn puppy," Rachel said as soon as Blaine sat down next to her in Lit class. Blaine simply groaned and let his forehead hit the desk. It hurt like hell, but he didn't care. Rachel reached out and rubbed his back, being careful not to touch his skin. Blaine felt comforted almost immediately. He couldn't let many people touch him, and some days he missed that simple comfort terribly. Rachel Berry was one of the few friends he had, but she was more that that. She was like him. A freak, according to some people. A mutant, according to the sci-fi loving population. For them, it was a curse most of the time, and a secret. The fact that people like them existed had been popular knowledge since only a few months ago, and the governments hadn't made up their minds about what to do with them. Blaine hadn't told anyone except his family. The only reason Rachel knew was because of a mutual accident that had happened a year ago. He found her freaking out in one of the empty classes one day, talking nonstop about Broadway and casts and movies and everything, almost vomiting precise facts one after the other. Blaine had found it amusing until he saw her panicked face. He rushed to her, tried to help her, and she grabbed Blaine's ungloved hand -something that he made sure would not happen again in the future- and then she started screaming in pain. Blaine had taken his hand away in time to not leave any lasting wound, but the secret was out. They had talked, and realizing they had the same... situation, they bonded. It was nice, having someone who actually understood what this was about; that they weren't 'mutants'; that it wasn't _cool_, it wasn't an x-men movie and they didn't save the world at night in a league of justice. Someone who knew it was not a genetic mutation, but a psychological one. Few studies were made, and the ones that were made, had to be done in secrecy, but it was known, at least to them, that the true nature of those called powers resided in the mind. If anything, more than powers, they where evolved versions of phobias. That's what they were known as in their circles, at least. They originated because of a normal psychological condition, a common fear, a simple trauma. When those got serious, they turned into phobias, or real psychological problems. Schizophrenia, bipolarity, OCD, you name it. But not for them. For a few, the body changed to compensate what the mind was lacking. It worked sort of like what the senses did when, for example, if you lost sight, your touch or hearing capacity grew to compensate. This was a strange version of that, but much harder to talk about. The way the body compensated, the 'power', that was easy to converse about, but having to explain what lead you to that, what phobia or psychological damage you had escaped from, that, in some cases, was even more of a secret. Rachel had shared hers that day. She explained to him that she had been obsessed with stardom and fame since little, and it grew to a point were she was scared of being forgotten. It was athazagoraphobia driven to its peak, so much so that her body compensated by remembering absolutely everything. She had to make exercises to put her mind blank in order to stop absorbing things, because sometimes it drove her insane. Blaine was reticent to share his situation until Rachel let out casually something about her 'dads', and Blaine shared his story, that he had been bullied for being gay to the point of getting beaten up, and it had made such damage to his mind that he started to develop a phobia to being touched. Before a shrink could start to treat him, his body did the job. It was manageable, in some cases. When he was feeling safe and trusted someone, they could touch him without being physically pushed away or hurting, but when he was in panic or fear, unsure and unsafe; his skin became dangerous to touch. An unknown force, like a magnetic field, pushed away anyone that was close, and if they actually touched him, pain would start to spread from the contact point, slowly spreading through the whole body. There was a way to lose that condition but to the price of letting the mind run the natural course of the trauma and quite possibly make you insane. There had been a few cases of people who forced themselves to change the power and deal with the trauma instead, but all of them ended up committing suicide. The stats spoke for themselves.

Rachel kept rubbing his back in circles and he tried to push through the fog that the comforting contact put him in, and sat straighter.

"Coach Sue gave me detention," he said, still unable to believe this was happening to him.

"What? Why? If you want I can go and complain to the faculty! My dads..."

"No, no," he stopped her before she went full mode into one of her tirades. Blaine rubbed his temples to try and stop the imminent headache. "It was sort of my fault. Or at least it has to be if I don't want to be forced out of the closet," Rachel frowned, not getting the point since everyone knew Blaine was gay, until she got the code. The _other_ closet. She leaned in, lowering the volume of her voice to a proper conspiracy whisper. Her dramatic antics never failed to amuse him.

"Oh my god, did you hurt anyone?"

"Karofsky, but he's ok. They were being idiots in the hallway and they cornered me. I warned them not to touch me, but…"

"Yeah, like they would listen," she finished for him "Blaine, this is awful, did they find out?"

"No, that's the point. I was lucky and the angle helped, so they all think I pushed Karofsky into the lockers. I am lucky to only have this stupid detention and not get sent into prison or some lab. I can't do a thing about it," he said, pissed off but dejectedly. Rachel knew the frustration of being accused of something and not being able to even defend oneself.

"That really sucks, Blaine. What are they making you do? Maybe I can help you"

Blaine smiled at her. Most of the time, she was really ambitious and selfish, but she was a good girl, and a good friend.

"That is the worst part of all of this. I actually think I rather go to prison," he deadpanned.

"Blaine!" she admonished in return.

"I have to attend _cheerios_ practices, Rachel," he finally said, with the voice of a man who just got his death sentence "Sue will make me water mascot of the cheerios for the whole year. It's _awful_!"

"Oh... Well, that doesn't sound _so_ bad," she said, fixing her skirt to avoid Blaine's eyes.

"Not bad? Not b... Rachel, I _hate_ cheerios. I hate cheerleading! And I'm being forced to watch a bunch of stupid, superficial, empty minded boys and girls jump around and feel like they're the best thing to ever happen to this school!"

"Oh don't be so dramatic!" She said, rolling her eyes "At least the boys are hot," Rachel offered, and Blaine shook his head, amused despite his anger.

"They might be hot but they're idiots. And Sebastian Stupid Smythe is there all the time. This is going to be so humiliating!"

"But there's something else, right?" Rachel noticed, sharp as ever. Her power let her be more assertive than others so it was hard to hide something for her. Blaine lowered his voice.

"I have to tutor Hummel twice a week," he said, grimacing.

Rachel let out a squeal of happiness that, according to Blaine, it was completely out of place.

"What was that?" Blaine asked, frowning at her while she covered her mouth to try and hide her excitement.

"It's just that... It's Kurt Hummel! You're tutoring the most gorgeous boy in the whole school! Oh you two would look so good together!" she gushed, and Blaine stared at her like she had gone mad.

"Rachel, there is so much wrong with what you just said, that I can't even begin explaining"

"I know, he has a boyfriend. But Sebastian is a jerk and he treats Kurt like crap"

"You're missing the point! That is only one thing that's wrong, and its not even the most important one. And if Sebastian treats him like crap it's because he lets him, which leads me to the actual point: Kurt Hummel is shallow, superficial, lacks personality and has no drive at all. The only thing going for him is how hot he is," Rachel started nodding effusively until Blaine raised a finger to indicate he wasn't over "but even that is hard to appreciate because he's such an ice queen all the time. So, no, Rachel, this is not good".

"He has a really cute brother, too," the brunette piped in, trying to be sly and failing.

"Oh my god, Rachel, are you even listening to me, or is your mind so full of perverted thoughts of the Hudson-Hummel brothers that you can't hear?"

"I'm just saying! Of all punishments, being forced to stare at Hummel all day sounds fine to me"

"I don't even recognize you right now," Blaine muttered, sitting normally in his seat when the teacher finally arrived and deciding to ignore the stranger that was now occupying the place of what was once his friend.

Rachel simply smiled knowingly and faced forward to focus on their class, and Blaine tried to do the same, and pushing all thoughts of stupid popular cheerio boys and their jerk boyfriends out off his mind.

The day had started like crap, and it only promised to get worse.

Sometimes, Blaine Anderson also hated his life.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you guys for the alerts and favorites! I'm happy you seem interested in this story! I'll try to update every ten days or so! Enjoy chapter two!**

**PHOBIA**

The bell rang, and the student body almost sprang into action after an hour of lethargy. It was the last period, so the bell was the sound of heaven to all.

Well, to all except to Blaine.

He put all his school supplies into his bag with slow movements, trying to postpone the dreaded afternoon. Eventually, he had nothing left to do, and he forced himself to go. He reached the field too soon, despite the fact that he was walking deliberately slow. The sun was high and burnt strong, and Blaine wished he could wear t-shirts. That was mainly why he avoided outdoor activities. He loved the sun and the green, but when you were forced to wear gloves and long sleeved shirts, outdoor activities lost their shine. He shielded his view from the sun's glare to watch the field. The group of girls and boys was already around the benches; their red and white clad bodies easy to discern even from the other side of the field. Blaine sighed, and started walking. Coach Sylvester was already there, and Blaine hoped that she would send the group to practice a routine before he got there, so she would spare him the humiliation. Not that he cared what that group of stuck up, shallow kids thought of him, but sneers and slurs got tiring after years of trying to ignore them.

He was in luck. By the time he had arrived, most of the group was already deep into practice. Only two people were there, and one of them was obviously Sue. Blaine pushed his glasses up his nose. His vision was really bad some days. When he got close enough, his dread bloomed into despair. Sue was talking to a very irked Kurt Hummel. The boy had a high pitch voice, but he was talking too low for Blaine to hear. Not that he wanted to hear. Whatever Hummel was irked about was none of his business.

"I can't control everyone, Porcelain, trust me, I've tried. Now stop complaining and go fix that sloppy excuse of a pyramid," she had said in clear tones, even more so the last part because she had yelled through her megaphone. Kurt gave her an icy, unreadable look and turned back to the group. Was it Blaine's imagination, or had the boy faltered a little when he caught sight of him? For a brief, crazy second, Blaine though Kurt had looked... scared.

Surely his sight was way worse that usual, because if there was a person that lacked intimidation power, it was him.

"Ah, baby king! What took you so long?"

Blaine was half expecting more insults, but when none came, he raised both eyebrows. Everyone knew that Coach Sue couldn't talk without somehow bringing you down. She stared back, almost daring him to make a comment about it. If all Blaine had to take from her was her strange naming and constant association with Elvis, then who was him to complain? Even if Sue being somewhat nice made him more suspicious and on edge, it was better to just let her do her thing.

"I was just... Putting my books away," Blaine explained lamely. Sue stared back, expression unreadable.

"You're in water duty, so make sure those are always filled, and if I ever catch you filling them with tap water, Anderson, you will suffer. The Evian jerry cans are inside the storage room. Also, you're in charge of attendance," she said, throwing a chart at him. He caught it deftly. Sue seemed to nod in approval, as if that had been a strange test. Blaine had no idea what she could possibly be testing, but he was somewhat glad he had passed. "Make sure you keep that up to date. If one of my cheerios is late, I want to know. If one is injured, I want it there, if one has problems, .."

"R...right," Blaine said, trying not to look so lost. The chart was absurdly precise. Blaine groaned. He would have to ask them all tons of questions. Actually _talk_ to them. What a torture.

Blaine sat down in one of the benches while Sue went off to check on the practice, and he started studying the chart. No matter how much he hated this, he had always taken his duties very seriously, and this was no exception. Still, Evian water, really? What was wrong with normal, tap water? It was absurd.

Some of the names in the list where familiar to him, because everyone talked about the popular kids. Some, he had no idea who they were. There was a general chart for attendance, with a list of names, year, position and hours, and then there was a file sheet for each with all the data and I.D. picture of the person. Blaine set himself for the arduous and hateful job of remembering each face and link a name to it. It was an easy task for his brain, but he hated the fact that he was cramming valuable place in his mind with useless information.

He found the first name on the list, checked the picture, and racked the group with his eyes to find 'Abby, Danielle'.

Eventually, the boring task let his brain fly away with thoughts. He kept staring at the group of boys and girls practice their routines, or chat while taking a break. Laughing. Being normal. He felt strange, sitting there in the sidelines, watching. It felt strange because it was familiar. Sometimes, he felt like he had been his whole life doing the same. Watching from the sidelines, trying to act and be as normal as he could, putting so much effort when others had it so easy. He wondered briefly what it would feel like, to be them. Not being scared to hurt people when they got close, not having to hide a great part of himself. None of them would ever understand. They fitted in so easily, barely making the effort. People loved them, admired them. They didn't have to deal with his kind of problems. And this group in particular, the popular crew, the jocks, the cheerios, with their perfect lives and they friends. How could they ever possibly understand being different? Being a 'mutant'?

Blaine played a scenario in his head, like an old movie, played far too many times. He was the main character. Sometimes he was young, sometimes older. Most of the time, movie Blaine changed to fit his current age. Something always happened. Either an accident and someone found out, or he was forced to show his ability in order to save someone, or his least favorite: he would trust someone with the truth, only to be betrayed later.

Because there was always a later. Once everyone finds out, there are fewer variations in the movie. Blaine couldn't come up with many results, and most of the time, the one that played in his brain was the bad ending. He gets mocked, or hated. Pushed away, locked somewhere. Forgotten. Hurt. He didn't let himself play the happy endings. They were few, and they were very unrealistic.

The group in front of him would probably mock him first, he guessed with almost morbid calm. Then, once they truly realized what it meant, they would be scared. So scared.

"Very good, Anderson," said a voice he knew too well, interrupting his string of thoughts so accurately that he felt it was almost programmed. If his life were to be a movie, of course his main torturer would interrupt him just when he was thinking about such things. But Blaine's life wasn't a movie. He couldn't turn it off when things got ugly. It was harsh, uncensored reality, in full Technicolor.

He didn't turn around, didn't even alter his steady work of checking peoples names. He would recognize the annoying smooth voice of Sebastian anywhere. "I knew you wanted him, but I never thought you where _so_ ambitious"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked confused, and cursing himself for offering him a reaction. _Come on, Blaine, you know better than this. The secret is to never react, remember?_

"I mean the plan is sloppy, at best, and it lacks finesse, but it worked, so it is worth of admiration. Getting into a fight so you could land yourself here to check out my boyfriend, and tutor him. Really, Anderson, congratulations. I'm not sure what you think you can accomplish, considering you have nothing to offer him, but still, it's the effort that counts."

"You..." Blaine started, almost amazed at Sebastian. He turned around and faced him with an amused smile "you think I planned this? In order to get to your boyfriend?" He let out a short snort "I'm sorry to disappoint you, Smythe, but I don't have so much free time to plan things like that, but clearly you do, so let me know if you come up with a new, crazy conspiracy and I'll do my best to play it for you. Even if Hummel were the last boy on earth, I wouldn't touch him with a stick"

"lying doesn't suit you, so don't try," he said, with fake gentleness, almost in a patronizing way "Everyone wants to tap that." he affirmed, and Blaine felt disgusted at the way he talked about his boyfriend. Well, they were really meant for each other, after all. They really deserved each other. "You know what I'm really curious about?" Sebastian continued, and Blaine shook his head in annoyance and disbelief, turned back to face the field and continue working, doing his best to ignore the boy. It didn't seem to deter the boy from talking, though "How _did_ you manage to push Karofsky so hard? You must have some amazing _ability_, Anderson."

Blaine clutched the clipboard harder, trying not to panic. The way Sebastian had said that, it was almost as if he knew. The voice had been deliberate, the wording…

No, it was just him being paranoid. This was Sebastian, he was always on his case, it meant nothing. It couldn't mean anything.

"I… I didn't push him, he tripped. It was an accident?" Blaine said, trying to sound confident and annoyed, trying not to let the panic show in his voice. He didn't dare look at Sebastian. What if he saw the knowledge in his eyes, the disgust? It wasn't like he cared what the boy thought of him, but he did care if Sebastian knew what he really was.

"Tripped? Over what, his stupidity? Granted, it's more that possible, but I'm not buying it. Now, really Anderson. What did you do to him? Cause I'm _dying_ to know".

A sudden beeping noise broke through the tense silence between the two boys, and Blaine jumped in his seat. He checked his wrist watch, and it flashed him the usual alarm, but he was so worried about what Sebastian had said that it took him several seconds to remember what the alarm was for, which was amazing because he had programmed that a couple of years ago. He stood up, deciding that the best course of action was to ignore Smythe for now, and went to where his bag was, taking out a couple of pills from a bottle and chugging them down without water. He had been taking pills since his power showed up. His dad was a doctor, so he was sure that there was a combination of pills that must work to cure his son, and had been trying ever since to find the right combination. It was useless. If simple medication could fix it, mutants wouldn't exist. Blaine was tired of arguing with him. After all, the pills hardly did a thing, so it was just easier in the long run to take them, even if it was frustrating how his dad simply couldn't understand. One of those pills was quite useful, at least, since it helped lower his temperature enough to be able to wear long sleeves and gloves in summer. People always assumed he was weird and sickly, and he did nothing to correct them, since it was better that them knowing the complex reality.

"Are you sick? That's funny, because you look pretty healthy to me," Sebastian asked, having followed him with a leisure pace. Blaine was starting to get really annoyed at all that extra attention on him. He had no idea why Sebastian was even bothering now. He had somewhat ignored Blaine for three years, or at least, he never singled him out like this. What had he done to get into that boy's radar?

"Sebastian!" shouted a high pitched and authoritative voice. Both boys turned to see Hummel staring at them with a frown. "Get away from him," he ordered. Blaine was not sure to whom he was directing that annoyed face, but it was probably to him. Surely a nerd like Blaine was like an unwanted insect in his pristine, rose colored world.

"Yeah, you don't want to catch the loser," Blaine joked. Sebastian smiled at him in such way that it sent shivers down his spine.

"Oh, I'm _much_ more worried of catching the freak, Anderson"

The tall, annoying boy walked up to Hummel with a confident walk and grabbed his boyfriend possessively by the waist, and giving the boy a deep, demanding kiss, almost forcefully. Blaine wanted to look away, but the sight was both repulsive and hot. He was pissed off at himself for even thinking that, but he couldn't help it. It had the effect of a car wreck, your morbid curiosity makes you want to look even while you feel disgusted. Besides, he wasn't blind, no matter how awful those two were, they were both really handsome, and Blaine wasn't made of rock. Thankfully, it didn't last long, since Hummel leaned back, breaking the kiss and looking even more annoyed than before.

"God, Sebastian, I'm in practice! Not now. Cant you just wait quietly in the bleachers?"

Ugh, he was such an ice queen. No matter how much he hated them both, he couldn't help feel envy at their freedom to be intimate in public. Hummel had such nerve, looking pissed off. That was why he hated the whole bunch of them, popular kids. They took everything for granted while for him, most things where a luxury or an impossible thing.

"Enjoying the show, Anderson?" Sebastian asked in mocking while walking past him. He shot him a glare but it was useless. When he turned back, he was shocked to find Hummel close to him, glaring.

"Get away from him, Anderson, if you know what's good for you," he said. Blaine couldn't help but laugh, it was taken out of him almost forcefully by the absurdity of the situation.

"Oh you are both so full of it. I don't want either of you. I can barely stand breathing the same air as you. You don't have to worry, Hummel. I won't try to steal your superficial, brain-dead boyfriend, and you can rest assured that I don't want you either. I like my partners smart and kind, and you're somewhat lacking on both regards."

Kurt's pissed off face dissolved into a neutral expression that threw Blaine off. The tall boy was about to say something when the loud shout of Sue Sylvester interrupted.

"Porcelain, no time to socialize! Get your pretty ass over here and start this routine, stat!"

"See you tomorrow," Kurt muttered before he left, and once Blaine got over the shock of the weird situation, he groaned.

He had totally forgotten about the tutoring torture.

* * *

><p>"Not that bad, wasn't it?" Rachel says once they meet up outside in the parking lot of the school. Blaine only grimaces in answer, and they start walking. Their homes are not that far from each other, and they had developed this habit of walking home together. It was good, especially after a bad day, sharing time with a friend, even with one as annoying as Rachel. He loved her, he really did, flaws and all, because, after all, who didn't have one or two bad habits?<p>

"Are you kidding? It was torture. I think I rather they burn my whole bookshelf other than spend another day in their company," he said, and Rachel shot him a disbelieving look. Blaine smiled. "Yeah, ok, not the bookshelf. Maybe the wardrobe"

"Well, that would be a blessing," Rachel mocked, giving a pointed look to his bowtie.

"Hey! Don't question my style if I don't question yours, wasn't that the deal?"

"Right, I forget. My bad."

Blaine watched her from the corner of his eye. She seemed to have a spring to her step. Maybe something good happened to her.

"No, you don't," he points out, about her previous statement. She laughs at that. Yep, definitely happy. "So how was glee club?"

"You wouldn't need to ask if you came, you know?"

Blaine groaned loudly, rolling his eyes and everything to send the point across. Rachel grinned at him. Ever since she found out he had a decent voice and a knack for performance, she had been literally begging him in every possible way to join. It wasn't even that he didn't want to. He loved to sing, and he would love nothing more to join. But clubs meant interacting with people, and glee meant having physical contact and wardrobe that he couldn't control. He was not going to risk the life of people just because he wanted to indulge in a little singing and dancing. It could go terribly wrong.

"Rachel..."

"Oh come on, we could put you sequined gloves. No one has to find out,"

"Yeah, cause nothing says unnoticed better than sequined gloves," he snorted, and Rachel laughed again, loud and sincere. She grabbed him by the arm, knowing that the cloth would protect her in case Blaine's power showed up, and they walked in comfortable silence for a few seconds.

"But really, how was glee club? You seem particularly happy today. Did they give you that tricky solo you wanted for regionals?"

"Not really, I just…"

Two short and loud honks from a car interrupted her, and a big black Navigator parked at their side. The driver window slid down, and Blaine was shocked to find one Finn Hudson at the wheel. Even more so, he seemed to be smiling at Rachel.

"Hey, Rachel. Do you need a lift?"

If anyone had been paying attention, they would have find it most amusing that both Kurt and Blaine gave the same shocked, outraged expression to Finn, in utter disbelief that he had suggested such a thing.

"I… Yes! That would be lo…lovely," she had said, completely excited but faltering at the end when she saw Blaine's face.

"Never mind," he said, smiling at Rachel. He wasn't so bad a friend that would cut Rachel's happiness just because he hated what was going on. "Go ahead, I'll be fine"

"You can, uh, you too, Blaine," Finn offered, somewhat embarrassed. Blaine didn't quite know why, but he didn't care to know.

"_Finn!_" Kurt complained in a low hiss, but it was loud enough to hear anyway. Blaine glared at him.

"Oh no, I wouldn't want to hurt your reputation. I'd rather walk," he said, still glaring at Kurt. Even if his tone was polite, the meaning behind his words wasn't. Finn stared from Blaine to Kurt, who was now pointedly looking forward with that same unreadable expression than before, arms crossed at his chest. Blaine had one second of woe at the boy's toned arms, and then he mentally slapped himself.

"B…Blaine, come on," urged Rachel, torn between siding with his friend and going with what was clearly a romantic interest. Blaine smiled at her, punching her amiably on the shoulder.

"Don't fret. Go on, I'll be fine. Cooper is coming home, anyway. I need time to mentally prepare for the hurricane"

"But I…" she said, still worried, and Blaine muttered from the corner of his mouth in a joking tone.

"Come on, he's not going to wait forever. Go get him!"

The bright smile she gave him was almost worth it.

"Are you sure, dude?" Finn shouted after him. Blaine only raised a hand in a nondescript sign, already walking away.

* * *

><p>"Blaine, is that you?"<p>

His mother's sweet voice sounded from the kitchen as he closed the door. His house was big, but comfortable. It wasn't mansion big, but it was spacious, and decorated with taste, but lived in. You could see little things here and there that told a fragmented story. Photos, diplomas and paintings on the walls, a coffee table with magazines that went from Vogue to Forbes. An upright piano, two acoustic guitars. Books everywhere. Painting supplies. A chess board, finely made from molded glass, frozen in the middle of a game. There where three tea cups on the table, used. His brother was probably already home.

"Yes, mum," he shouted back. He dropped his bag on one of the couches and walked towards the kitchen. The smell of bakery was beckoning him. His mum was in the middle of the huge kitchen, one tray of recently baked cookies in hand. She was petite, with long black straight hair tied in a low ponytail. Her Philippine heritage was really noticeable. Her black eyes always shone with that motherly, unfathomable knowledge of everything.

"Honey, your brother is here already. I told him to set up in your room, ok?"

"Sure," he said, kissing her on her clothed shoulder and stealing a cookie.

"How was cheerleading practice today?" she asked, almost happy. Blaine shook his head at her. She knew the circumstances in which his son ended up having to help the club, and she was worried about his kid's power being known, but she was also happy that Blaine was participating in club activities. After all, books and computers could only be healthy company for a short while.

"It was dreadful and a torture, thank you very much"

"Oh, honey, you're being a bit melodramatic. Did you talk to this Kurt kid about the tutoring?"

"No, I'm trying to postpone communicating with him as long as I can. I don't want to lower my IQ by sharing air with him"

"Blaine, I'm sure he's a perfectly ok kid. Burt's his dad, and the man is a sweetheart. He even explained to me how to do an oil change in my car. I'm sure a son of his can't be that bad. Are you sure you're not judging too fast?"

"Can you blame me?"

His mother gave him a sympathetic smile and dropped the subject, somehow.

"Your dad is worried about you," She said instead, and Blaine tried not to groan. He almost wished we could keep talking about Kurt instead. At least he could outright insult the boy. He couldn't quite complain about his dad with the same freedom.

"Doesn't he always?" he muttered.

"He just wants to help, you know that,"

"I know, but he really can't. The sooner he realizes this, the better for us all"

"Now, you don't quite know that"

'_I do_,' Blaine wants to say, but he shuts up. He will never win this particular conversation. And it was really hard to be mad at someone that's really just trying to help you, no matter how blind they are to the real situation.

"Brain, is that you?"

A deep, cheerful voice asked, and Blaine turned, cookie in his mouth. He tried to smile around the baked good, and his tall brother laughed at him. "You look like a dork," he said as a way of greeting, and gave two long strides and hugged him in a very effusive way. Blaine tried to complain about it, the contact not being really safe, but the half masticated cookie made it sound like an incomprehensible string of groans and mutters.

"Oh I missed you too, Brain!" he joked, unable to really understand what Blaine had said. Blaine felt warm at the nickname. His brother always had mocked him about his knack for learning and intelligence, even if he was smart himself, and had developed the habit of calling him 'Blaine' in a fake Japanese accent, pronouncing the L as an R and making it sound like Brain, which was the point. Far from pissing him off, the nickname was endearing to him.

"How's Britain handling the Anderson Invasion?" Blaine asked instead, and his brother let him go to smile charmingly at him. He was really handsome. Even from a brother's point of view, Blaine could see why his brother was so popular with both girls and boys. He had an air of sophistication that was really charming, and he knew how to play it.

"Oh, Britain doesn't know what hit her. Business is going well. Did you know that British nurses are at least 34 per cent hotter than the average American ones? True fact!"

"Let me question the accuracy of that statement," Blaine said, but he was amused. Their mum ushered them to the living room, fresh cups of tea prepared and a still warm tray of cookies.

"Hey, I heard you went all berserk yesterday. What was that about?"

"Jeez, Copper!" Blaine complained, using the nickname he always had for his brother. Just like his, it was meant to sound only slightly different, and it made reference to his brother's electric nature. "There's no secrecy in this house."

"Why should it be? I'm just worried, man, that's all," Cooper said, sitting down in one of the living room couches, next to his mum, who turned on the TV and lowered the volume. Blaine sat in one of the bar stools and watched the scene with fondness. It was familiar, the three of them, chit chatting about anything, drinking tea, watching the news. It was a small piece of 'normal' in Blaine's strange life.

"No one found out, so it's ok, and I was doing really fine, they just cornered me and I couldn't do much"

"You really need to avoid empty hallways," his brother said, taking another cookie from the tray and was about to say something else when their mother hushed them and raised the volume of the TV. There was a man in front of a huge building, something state related. Blaine couldn't quite remember.

"The reunion is about to end, and we'll know for sure what are the parameters of this new law that Senator Roberson is trying to enforce. The mutant issue has been in the minds of many figures, but so far no one seemed to take a stand. Will this be the end of that?"

"W… what law?" Blaine asked, starting to lose color. Cooper stared at his brother in badly hidden panic, and stared at the television again.

"I have no idea…" he said, and reached out a hand to place it on their mother's shoulder, who was tense and remained silent, staring at the screen.

"Here's one of the participants, Sir, sorry, sir, could you tell us something about what's being discussed today"

A tall, elegant man filled the screen now, with steely grey eyes and coifed hair. Something in his face sounded familiar to Blaine, but he was too scared to focus on pinpointing it.

"Yes, of course. The government has been dragging their feet on the mutant issue, and we believe it's long overdue. It is a real threat, and should be treated as one. Now, of course, this brings to light a lot of human rights that can't be ignored, but the truth can't be denied: Mutants are dangerous, and it could be a hazard for society's stability."

"What are you aiming for with this new law?"

"Well, we can't ignore that these are people too," he said, but the honesty was lacking in his voice. No matter how much he tried to disguise it, thin traces of disgust were clearly noticeable in his tone. "And we mean no harm to them. We think we can all agree that the best thing to do is establish a recognition network, and a separate database. This is both for the safety of the humans and the mutants, of course," Blaine felt his skin prickling with hate. It was quite obvious that the law had no intention to benefit their kind at all, but it was quite easy to make it look like it would. A mutant registry? They had to be kidding. It would be impossible to get outside, or do anything. No one would let them into any place. No one would hire them. It was almost like they were trying to recreate the apartheid.

"They can't…" Blaine started, and his mother turned to look at him. Her eyes were wide and glassy. She was about to cry. Blaine returned her stare, both communicating silently what words could not say.

"We hope that this will be the first step towards a new unity." The man finished, and flashed the camera a confident, fake smile. The camera turned to the interviewer once again.

"Thomas Smythe, state attorney and member of the new group that ambitions to establish a new set of laws that will once and for all deal with the mutant issue that no other group dares to touch. We'll hopefully have new information in a few days, when the second meeting will take place in…"

The television turned off, and everyone jumped in their seats from the shock. Blaine's father was at the door, frowning at the black screen.

Silence was thick, and everyone's mind was busy trying to comprehend what this whole thing meant. Blaine didn't need to think too much. He stood up, suddenly, and headed for the stairs. His skin was almost ablaze with emotions.

"Blaine, where are you going?" His father demanded, but he was way too tired to even try and be polite.

"Blaine, please," the soft voice of his mother reached him, and he paused at the base of the stairs.

"I just… I need some time alone. I'm sorry," he said, and didn't wait for an answer.

He barely slept that night, thinking how he was possibly going to face school tomorrow.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I would really love to hear your thoughts, so don't hesitate to leave a few words!<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Hey guys! Sorry for the wait! I'm really going to try to post one chappy every ten days, but I just started this HUGE project with Kivrin and Keitorin Asthore called Threnody, and it's keeping me busy drawing. Seriously, I never drew so much so fast before! Crazy! Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. I'm happy to hear your thoughts, remember it's great for the author! And to that anon that left me a lengthy review: HOLY SUGAR! I love those, and I'm so very glad you like it this much! I'm happy you're enjoying it! This story for me is so much fun to write, and I can only hope it's equally pleasing for the readers to read! And now, on with the show! **

**Phobia**

Complexly Simple Kiddo

He had been staring at Kurt in the relatively quiet of the library for the better part of a minute now. The popular cheerio was sitting in front of him, bent over a piece of paper, nervously nibbling at his own lip as he mulled over a physics problem, while Blaine mulled at his own set of problems; problems that had nothing to do with Physics, or Astronomy, or school education. He couldn't take his eyes from those dark pink lips, and when he could, his gaze got trapped in Kurt's eyes. He spent an entire quarter of an hour wondering if they were blue, or green, or gray. If both eyes and lips where out of sight, he would get caught at Kurt's hair, and the way it shined, or the way it was perfectly coiffed. If not the hair, his strong arms, or his deft hands, or the way his Adam's apple bobbed up and down when he swallowed. There was always something there to distract him, to catch his attention, and Blaine hated it. Hated it because he was a smart guy, and physical attraction had never been a priority. It still wasn't, but he wasn't blind either, nor was he a robot. It pissed him off because he could almost forget Kurt Hummel's awful personality, when he was staring at those kissable lips. He could almost forget Kurt's terrible lack of drive and resolution when he was listening to his voice, so unique. It was easy to forget he hated him when Kurt Hummel was focusing his eyes in you, those blue-gray pools of infinite galaxies.

"_Anderson_," those lips said, and Blaine snapped out of his trance.

Right, so this is where the illusion shatters. He is perfect, as long as he remains silent. Blaine, you really should know better.

"What?" he snapped, mostly to cover his own blatant staring, and he expected Kurt to be pissed off and deliver one of his so famous one-liners that cut through you like a sharp razor.

Instead, Kurt looked at him through his eyelashes, and smiled. It was tiny, barely there. A small and almost imperceptible twist of the lips. It looked shy, or bashful. It looked out of place in Kurt's face, and yet it was so beautiful.

"What are you staring at so much?" he asked, without sass, or hate, or anything. Just simple curiosity. He leaned his head to one side, exposing his neck, but it didn't look like he was doing it intentionally. Blaine's mind was blurry.

"I… You," he stammered, almost in a trance. Those blue eyes should be illegal "I was staring at you"

Why would he say that? Why would he willingly want to commit social suicide by admitting to Kurt Hummel that he lusted over him? What was wrong with him today?

Kurt was going to kill him. He was. He was going to shout, humiliate him in front of the whole school, laugh at him for thinking a nerd like him could lust after the great Kurt Hummel, and then kill him for being such an annoying little thing.

But Kurt Hummel did nothing like that. Against all odds, he smiled, let out a little shy laugh that was absurdly adorable, and lowered his face, nibbling at his lip. When he looked back up, he opened his mouth to say something.

"When no one else can understand me…" he started singing, but his voice didn't sound like his own. Why the hell was he singing anyway? He thought Kurt Hummel didn't know how to. And that was definitely not his voice.

"When everything I do is wrong,"

Why did Kurt sound like Elvis? And why the hell was there music coming from somewhere? In fact, what the hell was happening? His chair felt soft and like it was giving in to his weight and maybe he was about to fall and…

"And you're always there, to lend a hand…"

"Ungh," Blaine groaned, feeling his head heavy. That awful transition when you realize you're actually in bed, and you like it there but the alarm is having none of it. Elvis sass and all. He threw his hand at his phone and blindly tried to turn it off.

The day definitely didn't start well.

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Blaine," said his dad when he entered the kitchen. Blaine snapped his still sleepy head, startled. It was usually his mum awake at this hour, not his dad. He smiled awkwardly and muttered a sleepy 'morning', pouring himself a cup of coffee. The silence between them was nothing but uncomfortable.<p>

It wasn't that he didn't like his dad; it's just that they never really knew how to communicate properly. Whenever they tried to discuss something, Blaine would get pissed at his father's ignorance in certain topics, but wouldn't want to hurt him by telling him, so he would simply stop talking. His dad probably felt the same way, like he was talking to a wall, or something, and he would get frustrated and would simply stop trying to make Blaine understand his point of view. It was easier when they both ignored the issue, but Blaine knew it was just building up and one day, his father and he would have a row that would probably hurt someone. He ended up trying to avoid situations like these. It was awful, and Blaine felt really bad about it, because he really loved his dad, but they were so out of sync that is was hard to establish some common ground.

"What are you, umm, what are you going to do today?" His father asked, trying to pretend he was just asking that casually while reading the paper. Blaine almost laughed at the pantomime.

"I have classes and then I have to stay for detention, tutor some kid," ugh and he had forgotten about that, and the dream, and now it came back to him and he was annoyed again. Stupid Hummel with his stupid stupidity and his need for tutoring and his great biceps. Who needs tutoring in Physics anyway? It's like, the easiest thing in the whole universe. Yeah, he's probably too busy letting his boyfriend do whatever it is he does to him to pay attention to classes and education. Stupid Hummel.

"No, I mean, about the… thing. Your thing, the mutant thing"

"You mean my Phobia?" Blaine asked, trying to sound polite and biting his lip so he wouldn't snap something hurtful. Damn, why was it so difficult to remember that it wasn't a 'mutation'; it wasn't a damn x-men movie with super powers and neoprene skintight uniforms? You would think his dad, with all his medications and knowledge, would try to remember it was psychological. "What about it?"

"Are you taking your pills? You need to be extra careful now, with all this law crap that Smythe is trying to pull," his father said, and Blaine smiled, an honest smile. It was moments like these when he knew he loved his dad, and he knew his dad loved him. It was easy to forget, sometimes, but it was there.

"Yeah, no, I know," Blaine said, sitting down in the kitchen isle and sipping his coffee "And his son is just, ugh, so annoying. You don't have to tell me twice to stay out of their radar. Bunch of stuck up kids that they are, running around school like they rule the whole thing,"

"But you were the same," his father mentioned, almost confused, and Blaine groaned internally. That was not a topic he wanted to discuss right now. Not now, not ever. His past was there in the _past_, and he wanted it to remain that way.

"Dalton was different"

"I never really understood why you wanted to transfer, Blaine, it was a fine school, great academics, and it would get you to almost any university, with your grades and all"

"Right, yeah. I should get going," Blaine said, already tired of trying to keep a conversation going with his dad that didn't lead him to being angry or pissed off or just plain sad. He didn't want to remember those days at Dalton. He had left for a good reason, and he had left for good. He hated going back on it. It was not something he wanted in his mind. It left a pretty deep scar, and he was reminded often enough as it was.

"Blaine, wait," His father said, and Blaine sighed, turning around to face his dad. "Is it ok to go to school? Are you in danger? Do you think anyone suspects? Maybe you shouldn't go to school today"

He was reminded of Sebastian's strange conversation yesterday, and he felt the fear trickle through his body and prickle at his skin like ants all over his body. He adjusted his biker gloves nervously, making sure they were safely in place and shielding his skin from people. He knew what that prickle in his skin meant, particularly when he felt fear, and he knew that right now, he was dangerous to touch. His father observed him with his clinical eyes, and Blaine was sure he knew too.

"No, I don't think anyone suspects," he said, not really lying, but not really telling the truth either. If he told his dad that he thought Sebastian might know something, there was no way his father would let him go to school, and quite frankly, despite all the horrible environment, school was his only distraction. Besides, he wasn't really sure Sebastian knew, it was just a couple of strange sentences that could be interpreted in many ways. He was just being paranoid.

"Well, you're taking your pills, right? They're helping, right?"

_No, dad. They don't do a thing to my phobia, they just make me groggy or slow or something equally unhelpful and detrimental, and it's frustrating how you just can't understand that you don't just treat a phobia like any other disease, so would you please stop asking?_

"Yeah, they, umm, they help a bit. The temperature one is really useful, you know," he said, raising his gloved hands as if to say what he couldn't say in words. He gave his dad an awkward smile and grabbed his messenger bag. "Anyway, I really need to go. See you"

"Be careful, Blaine," his dad said, and Blaine paused a second to stare at him. He was genuinely concerned for him, and Blaine felt bad; Inadequate. Why couldn't they get along more easily? Why was it so hard for them to be on the same page, when they clearly loved each other? What was he doing wrong? How could they fix it?

"I will, Dad. Thank you"

Why was it so hard for him to be just a normal kid?

* * *

><p>The air in school was heavy. Everyone acted the same way as ever, no one said anything out of ordinary, but there was something there, something new, something strange and uncomfortable. No one stared at anyone for too long. You could feel it in the air that everyone knew, yet no one dared to say it. The news about the new laws spread fast over the community, especially in such a small town like Lima.<p>

Blaine knew the statistics. He was perfectly aware that Rachel and he were not the only kids with Phobias at school. They just couldn't be, the numbers were against it, and if anything, today was proof of it.

Because everyone knew what those laws meant, and everyone was going to be forced, eventually, to choose a side. It had been easy to ignore the issue before. No one cared who had a Phobia, as long as they didn't show it. As long as you pretended to be normal. So what if your best friend ended up being different? You didn't need to know.

It was all starting to change. People were starting to wonder if they knew their friends as well as they thought they did. Where they trustworthy? Would they harm them?

A simple law that hadn't even passed yet had put the entirety of the social dynamics at risk. Even among teachers you could see the strain. Blaine thought he was relatively lucky. At least he had Rachel, who was just like him, and they could rely on each other. He had no other friends, and at times like these, he felt lucky that was the case. He could almost feel sorry for those who had a lot of people around, because it would be so much harder to deal with. If you had a Phobia, but none of your friends knew, how could you approach them? And say you didn't have one, but now you had to take a stand, and what if your friends thought different? The issue was easy when it was ignored. Now, it was raw, and open, and it felt real and pressing.

It was strange. Blaine almost felt at ease among all this uneasiness. He knew perfectly well where he stood. The people he cared about were with him, and they knew. Everyone else didn't matter. They could say or think whatever they wanted to. Blaine knew what he was, and he knew what people to trust.

That was, perhaps, why he froze in the middle of the hallway when he saw, next to her locker, Rachel and Finn, deep in conversation and outright flirting. Rachel flirting was a blatant thing, particularly for him, since Blaine had been a victim once, before he politely told Rachel he could never respond to her feelings, or any other girl for that matter.

But what shocked him the most was that Finn Hudson seemed to be responding to it.

Blaine felt his skin prickle once again. He was angry. So very angry.

Didn't Rachel knew better? Surely she had heard about the laws, and surely she had drawn her own conclusions. If there was a time for not trusting people like Finn Hudson, it was now. Those circles were going to be the worst. They had a tendency to deal badly with anything out of the normal mold, and Blaine and Rachel definitely didn't fit the normal mold at all. No matter how much Rachel liked Finn, no matter how hot she thought the tall quarterback was, he was still one of them; one of the popular crew, the ones that would not hesitate once to expose them, and hate them for what they were. The ones that were going to hurt them.

A jock pushing him 'accidentally' with his shoulder and muttering 'Move, damn nerd' brought him to the reality. Blaine ignored the rude boy, just like he ignored most of that crew, and walked to Rachel and Finn. The tall boy was the first to notice him.

"Hey, Blaine," he said, with that same awkward smile that looked almost innocent and childlike. Blaine frowned at him, not trusting that smile, or that look, or anything about Finn at all, and looked at Rachel instead. She was completely spaced out and smiling adoringly at Finn, and Blaine was sure that she was not aware that Blaine was there at all. It was funny, because Rachel's Phobia made her aware of a lot of things, but right now she was completely out of it. Almost as if Finn's presence canceled out her Phobia.

"Rachel? Can I have a minute with you?"

"What?" she asked, slowly waking up and looking at him "Oh hi, Blaine! Nice bowtie! That's the one you bought in that little retro place we found the…"

"Rachel!" he almost shouted, stopping what he knew was going to be a very specific rattle of obscure facts that were on her immense memory. Just like him, when Rachel felt scared or insecure, her Phobia would act up, and Blaine wondered why it seemed to start when he talked to her and not Finn. "Can you come with me a second? We need to talk about something"

"Sure! Yeah, umm, sorry, Finn, I need to…" she said, but couldn't finish her sentence because her smile was stretching her lips too much to form words. Finn smiled in return.

"No, yeah, sure! Don't worry about it," Finn said, all tall awkwardness and naïve charm.

"I'll see you tonight then!" Rachel said, and didn't move one bit. Blaine got fed up with the whole thing and grabbed Rachel's arm and dragged her down the corridor to one of the empty classes.

Once inside, he turned around and threw his arms up, staring at her, unable to form words.

"What?" she asked defensively, smoothing her skirt from inexistent creases.

"Rachel, are you crazy?"

"Why? Oh Blaine, I was just talking!" She said, rolling her eyes at him like it was no big deal.

"Ok, just answer me something. Did you watch the news yesterday?"

"Of course I did," she replied, almost offended by the accusation. "And trust me, if I even cross Sebastian in the hallway, I don't care if I get detention, I'm going to strangle the soul out of him. Not that he has one. Ugh! Can you believe that stupid crap they are trying to pull?"

Ok, so she knew about the law. It still didn't make sense why she was making lovey dovey eyes at one Finn Hudson.

"Ok so what are you doing, sleeping with the enemy?"

"What? I didn't sleep with Sebastian!" She almost screamed, confused, outraged and a little disgusted. The reaction would have been hilarious if the issue wasn't so pressing.

"Not Sebastian. Finn, Rachel. What are you doing?"

"I didn't sleep with Finn!" She said, blushing, and Blaine felt like smacking her.

"I know, it was just a sentence. You were still making eyes at him and being all flirty"

"So?"

"Are you…?" Blaine started, utterly amazed at the fact that Rachel didn't see his point as clearly "Rachel, you can't trust him!"

"Why not?" she asked, frowning. Blaine laughed. It sounded hollow.

"Are you serious right now? Ok, so let's say you trust him. You date him, you kiss him, do whatever you want. You're going to tell him, eventually, because I know you, Rachel," he said, pointing at her. She simply crossed her arms and raised her chin defiantly. "And what do you think it's going to happen once you tell him?"

"He's going to be ok with it," she said, with a certainty that Blaine knew was pure act.

"No, Rachel. He's going to be scared. He might be ok with it, but his friends won't be. And he will not want to be an outcast, nobody wants that, not if you are popular like he is. And he's not going to choose that. He'll dump you and mock you and hurt you, just so he can stay inside his stupid social circle, and you're going to be devastated!"

She stared at Blaine, frowning, her arms now didn't seem to be crossed, but she was almost hugging herself.

"Why are you being so mean?" she asked, almost whispered. Blaine, for a second, felt sorry for her. His eyes softened and he tried to calm down. He couldn't blow at her just because he knew it was the right thing. It wasn't her fault that the world was a mean, hurtful place.

"I don't want to see you hurt, Rachel," he said, letting out an explosive sigh that seemed to take away part of his anger "and if I have to be mean to protect you, then so be it. I'm willing to play bad cop. He is not one of us, Rachel, and the law will pass, because people like him will vote it, people like them, who are scared of us," he said, in a hush voice. He didn't want someone to accidentally pass by the door and hear this. He searched her eyes and both looked at each other for a few silent seconds, hazel against brown.

"He will understand, I trust him, Blaine. He's really nice!" she tried to convince him, and Blaine just shook his head.

"You might think he is, but they're all cut with the same mold, Rachel. You know what it is for us. We are, like it or not, outcasts. When the law passes, and it will, we'll be forced to say what we are. What makes you think he'll give up what he has, his friends, his reputation, so he can be with you?"

"What if he loves me?" she asked, in a scared, hushed voice, and Blaine was almost afraid to answer that. He didn't want to hurt her with the reality check, but he knew that letting her go on was worse.

"You've only started talking a few days ago, Rachel. And, say that he loves you, it doesn't mean anything. Love is less heavy than this. This is not a romance novel, Rachel, nor is it a science fiction movie. We don't get to be heroes, and we definitely don't get the guy at the end. We just fight, he kick and we struggle just to be able to survive here. That's all we get. A right to live. If we are lucky" he added, bitter tone. Rachel sniffed, but she wasn't crying. She squared her shoulders. She looked at Blaine with eyes that were strong and resolute.

"I trust him,"

"Rachel! Can't you see what they are?" Blaine asked, almost desperate, throwing a hand in the general direction of the hallway. She shook her head at him

"So you're saying I shouldn't trust him, because he's popular. Because a group like 'them' would never understand us. Blaine, you're doing the same thing they are. You're judging them without even knowing them at all. You're already saying they are bad, but you don't really know any of them. How can you do that when that's what people do to us."

"It's not the same!" Blaine argued, but Rachel stood up and pointed a finger at him, almost mimicking his actions a few seconds ago.

"It is _exactly_ the same!" she said "You are doing the exact same thing. Just because you know a few cases of bad people, and they happened to be in the same social circle, they happened to be of the popular group, so you judge them all equally. If one or two are bad, the whole group is meant to be bad. That's what people do to us, Blaine. They meet someone who's Phobia is out of control, and they figure we're all dangerous. We can't be trusted. Everyone's a person on their own, Blaine. Isn't that what you always preach about? That what makes us special is that we're all different? And now, because of some law, you're going to judge and be against everyone who doesn't have a Phobia? Who isn't like us? Are you asking me to discriminate the ones that are not in the same place as we?"

"You're blowing this out of proportion, Rachel," he said, shrinking in place. He felt like a scolded child that had mentioned a bad word to an adult. He felt his skin prickle with insecurity and fear.

"No, I'm not. I'm seeing things as they are. Yes, Blaine, this law will change things. Yes, we should be careful. But don't ask me to close my eyes and be against someone just because you think they might not understand. Don't ask me to close myself up to something that could be real love. I believe in him. I trust him"

_I trust you_

Blaine shook his head, trying to get the echoes of his own younger voice out of his head.

"I will tell him, eventually," Rachel said, but she sounded far away.

_There's something I want to tell you_

"It's what I am, and I'm not going to hide it,"

_I'm not… like you._

"I hope you're right, Rachel," he said, after a tense silence between them. His voice sounded broken, and tired. "I hope you're right, not because I want you to be happy with Finn, or because I think you love each other. That might be true, but I don't care. I hope you're right because you have no idea…" he swallowed, trying to make his voice work. He wasn't even looking at her. His eyes were focused fixedly on the floor. "you have no _fucking_ idea how much it hurts to be betrayed."

He raised his eyes at her. He felt like crying, but he wouldn't let himself.

"So I hope you're happy with him, because I don't want to be the one to restore you after he breaks you to pieces," he said, giving one last frown at her and turned around, ready to leave the class.

"Blaine!" she called after him, but he just raised a hand as if asking her silently to just stop. It wasn't a fight between them. They could never really fight. But he needed time to accept what she had chosen. He needed time to remind himself that not everyone was wired in the same way. Not everyone was going to get hurt.

It was too hard, though, and it hurt him to even think about Rachel going through the same thing he did.

He left her behind, with a silent promise to eventually talk about it. If she was set in trusting Finn, there was nothing he could do about it. He could only hope he was wrong. God, he wanted to be wrong so much, but life had done a great job in him.

The day was just starting, and already he felt like he had lived a week since he woke up. He was tired, angry, scared, and his Phobia was acting up like never before.

And when he remembered that he still had two hours of tutoring Kurt Ice Queen Hummel, he felt like cursing his fate.

Because, seriously, _why him_?


End file.
